Mewtism
by Jam Usagi
Summary: Harry Potter has lived much of his life lonely, and this has given him... difficulties in interacting with people. Then a single class changes his life. Again. Hermione and Ron are included, as well as Neville and Animagus!Harry.
1. Surprise Visit

Harry Potter, as many people would certify, was an extraordinary boy. In a world where the many people in question could do almost anything imaginable, the reason the young, messy haired boy was known to the entire wizarding population was that he had done the unthinkable: he had banished the Dark Lord Voldemort from the realm of the living.

At the ripe old age of one.

As you may guess, Halloween was overrun in the year of 1981, by the return-of-peace parties erupting all over England and much of the globe. The boy was loved by much of the Earth before he could hold long-term memories in his young mind.

But he never knew. Never realised that his 'freakishness' (according to one uncle Vernon) was an integral part of his being. Never understood that he would one day have friends who he would laugh with, play with and happily risk his life for. Never dreamed that they would do the same for him in an instant.

Never guessed that on his eleventh birthday, his life would change forever.

Put yourself in Harry's shoes. You have spent over nine and a half years as a slave to your only remaining blood relatives, barely surviving on the little food and water you were given. One day, the post comes with a letter addressed to you. Addressed to the very room that you sleep in. Imagine, then, that once that letter had been roasted to charcoal, a thousand more took its place. That a small forest's worth of paper was dumped on you from the heavens no matter where your relatives towed you.

Harry thought this was bloody hilarious. And the Dursleys' papercuts just added to the mountain of humour (although he was always nervous around paper). He even got a free road trip into the bargain. Not a particularly comfortable one, but he was no worse off here than he was in his cupboard back home, and he relished every moment of the Dursleys' suffering.

Harry was now staring sleeplessly at the ceiling of the run-down hut on the island in the middle of nowhere, Vernon having abandoned his new, previously shimmering automobile in favour of a rowboat that was clearly past its use-by date, and a long parcel that left little to the imagination as to what it was. Harry personally thought Vernon was more than a little paranoid by now, and made sure to stay well clear of his uncle's bed as he lounged on the floor.

A beeping sound from Dudley's watch drew Harry's attention as he realised that he was now eleven years old. Harry was somehow astonished that he didn't feel immediately older and stronger, despite the fact that he had wondered about this for his past six birthdays, and he knew it wasn't going to change.

Like the rest of his life.

A sudden bang sounded at the only door of the shed, and Harry was off the floor and onto his feet in a split-second. Reaching for the parcel and tearing it open, the boy was unsurprised at the sight of the rifle in his hands, along with a single bullet. Which he promptly dropped as a second boom shook the building. Cursing under his breath, Harry made to pick the bullet up off the floor. He abruptly realised that he didn't even know how to operate a rifle, and reminded himself to look it up so he could shoot Vernon. And by Vernon he meant the person on the other side of the door, which he opened after tossing the gun over his shoulder, figuring that he may as well be polite to his murderer. He was also curious as to what could make such a racket in the first place.

The boy-who-lived-but-not-for-long chanced a glance over his shoulder as he wrenched open the rickety door, hoping to see some funny reactions before he was turned to mush. He wasn't disappointed. All three Dursleys had been violently awoken by the first bang, and had sat up in bed by the second, just in time to watch in terror as Harry casually tossed the gun behind him and reached for the door handle. As Harry looked he saw the whale that was Dudley huddled in the corner, having a rather embarrassing wet patch on his clothes; his skeletal aunt laying on the bed, having previously fainted from fright; and his uncle smashing the world record for purpleosity in the face and with a gun in his hand, though seemingly unable to decide whether to shoot the murderer or the child with the single shot he had.

_'Well,'_ Harry thought as he turned to face the massive embodiment of insanity he had let through the front door, _'at least I don't have paper cuts.'_ Always good to look on the bright side.

The huge figure stepped through the open door, bumping its head into the top of the doorframe, as a result throwing splintered wood into the room. As he came in, he greeted them in a gruff, but quiet and kind-sounding voice, "g'day, fellas. Thanks fer lettin' me in, errm..." Here he turned to see who had opened the door. "Ah! Harry! I hav'n't seen yeh since you was a baby! Yeh take after yer father, but I reckons you have yer mother's eyes." At this, the big person sniffed and pulled out a handkerchief almost as big as a towel.

"No offence but who are you? And did you know my parents?" Harry knew the first question was incredibly rude and the second too hopeful, but the giant of a man before him didn't seem to notice.

"My name is Rubeus Hagrid, gamekeeper at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," proudly said Hagrid, puffing out his chest and filling much of the room in doing so. "O' course, yeh'll know all about tha'!"

"Not exactly, but-" Harry was interrupted by Vernon, bless his soul, who had just found his voice after his shock in seeing Harry open the door, and seemed determined to get himself killed. This was perfectly fine in Harry's opinion.

"You will leave at ONCE! You are breaking and entering!" Hagrid narrowed his beady eyes at the oldest male of the Dursley household,_ 'although he still doesn't seem too menacing.'_ He then wrenched the rifle out of the piggy man's hands and nonchalantly twisted it into a pretzel. Harry immediately corrected his previous thought.

"Well," said Hagrid, paying no mind to the man whimpering like a broken dog, "I reckons we should go early so's the Dursleys can't make us any stupider than they have a'ready." Harry noted with happiness the colour Vernon's face became at this statement, such a dark purple it was closer to black.


	2. Slight Problem

Harry and Hagrid spent the night talking, mostly about Harry's parents and their close friends, Hogwarts, and the wizarding world in general. Neither of them felt inclined to sleep, so Harry had a lot of time to ask questions. His attention was stolen by an owl rapping on the only window in the shack and, remembering what Hagrid had said about owls carrying letters, opened the window to let it in. after Hagrid checked the Daily Prophet newspaper, Harry asked to have a look. Although he still didn't understand much about the wizarding world, he read the paper with great interest on the boat ride away from the Dursleys (Harry noted that there wasn't a second boat on the island with satisfaction), until he came across a picture in the middle somewhere.

The old silver-bearded man in the moving picture might have looked imposing with his blue robes, strange hat and half moon glasses, were it not for his twinkling eyes and kind smile. Harry looked at the caption which read Albus Dumbledore. 'So this is our headmaster,' Harry confirmed to himself, and tried to remember his face. He had a feeling that wouldn't be too difficult.

Harry looked up at the title of the page, but only got as far as the word Hogwarts before he bumped into Hagrid, who had suddenly stopped in front of him. "Here we are!" Looking around in surprise, the boy-who-lived noted that they had left the boat a while ago, and was thoroughly embarrassed that he hadn't noticed before. "Welcome to the leaky cauldron, Harry. only magical folks can see this place." With that introduction, Hagrid led the boy into the small pub.

When inside, Hagrid was greeted by the barman, who apparently hadn't noticed Harry in the wake of the giant man. "The usual, Hagrid?" the bald, toothless man asked him, reaching for one of the many glasses on the shelf.

"Can't Tom, I'm on official Hogwarts business. Jus' passin' through with Harry here." At this, the entire bar suddenly froze over, and in a fluid motion, everyone was craning their necks to get a glimpse of Harry. Every living thing in the pub seemed to have it's attention on him, and Harry felt dread building inside him as he realised what was going on. 'Oh lord. I'm famous.'

Hagrid found Harry a while later, leaning against the wall on the outside of the Leaky Cauldron, close to hyperventilating and absolutely terrified. He motioned to the scared boy, who cautiously followed him back in.

Here we had best turn the clock back to find out why Harry had such a strong reaction to the attention of others. The boy-who-hyphenated had turned up one morning on the Dursley's doorstep, and that was where it began. He was much smarter than most of his age, able to read and write short sentences at just one year old. His uncle and aunt hated him for this, furious that he made Dudley look like a fool, and rewarded him asking questions and getting high grades by beating him. Before long, Harry knew not to do well in school and to read to get the answers he wanted. This led Harry to picking up a problem that muggles of the future would call 'Selective Mutism'. Any time Harry was faced with a social situation, his mouth would lock up. He also started panicking in large groups, as there were more people to be wary of. These issues became more and more cemented in his instincts, and Harry somehow knew he would never lose them.

A shame, as Harry would be a nice, if a little blunt, if only he could speak. And he could! He had spoken to his teachers all the time at his last school, and he honestly didn't know why he couldn't talk with students his own age. He had already vowed that this year he would break his problem and make a friend.

Back in the present, Harry crept back into the bar, and was shocked to see everyone passed out over their drinks. "I think yeh managed to stun them all a' once Harry," Hagrid whispered. "I never seen someone do tha'!" Harry had heard about the laws against underage magic from Hagrid, and sat down on the closest chair for support.

"They're going to expel me and I haven't even been to Hogwarts!"

"Harry, they won' expel yeh for accidental magic, half th' reason magic schools exist is so's they can teach yeh to get it under control." This calmed down Harry, who vowed to read himself to sleep for a few nights to learn more about the wizarding world. Hagrid took a piece of parchment out of one of his many pockets, along with a quill and ink, and wrote a note for when Tom woke up, apologising and explaining what Harry had done.

"Will he be angry at me?"

"Nah, Tom's a grea' man, real understandin'," Hagrid replied. "Well, bes' be off, we've got a lot to buy 'fore yeh can go to Hogwarts!" The black haired future student was led into a courtyard, still worrying over the states of everyone in the bar. Hagrid tapped him on the head with his umbrella, using transfiguration to hide his scar and change his hair colour to a light brown, although apparently his hair was magically stuck being messy. "Figure yeh don' want attention, Harry."

"Thanks, Hagrid." At that moment, Hagrid tapped a brick on the wall with his umbrella, and the bricks pulled themselves into an archway leading to a street.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley, the place t' go fer all yer wizarding needs," Hagrid laughed at Harry's amazed expression and pulled him through. "Firs', we'll be needin' some money from Gringotts. The place's run by goblins."

Harry had shaken himself out of his daze just in time to hear Hagrid. "Goblins," he wondered out loud, "are they nice people?"

"Not exactly nice, generally," Hagrid replied, "'mazing at keeping things safe, though. Gringotts is the safest place for anything. 'cept perhaps Hogwarts."

By this time, they had made it to the steps up to Gringotts. They made their way through bronze doors into a gigantic hall made entirely of marble and Hagrid took the lead towards the counter. After emptying his pockets (but not quite), Hagrid pulled out a key and presented it to the Goblin. "I've also got a letter from Albus Dumbledore about that thing in vault 713." With that, he pulled out a letter with a red and gold seal, which Harry assumed meant the letter was from Hogwarts.

The goblin looked over the letter carefully, apparently re-reading it twice, and called another Goblin called Griphook. Harry considered asking what 'that thing' from vault 713 was, but thought better than to ask. After clambering into the cart, it set off far faster than Harry was prepared for, and he fell out. before coming into contact with the ground though, he managed to hook his foot over the cart's edge, and Hagrid quickly pulled him back, giving him a funny look. After a while, Hagrid looked a shade of green to rival Vernon's purple.

After the ride had stopped, Harry tried to help Hagrid out of the cart (the effort was in vain but appreciated all the same), and he realised something unusual. "Hagrid, how come you weren't affected by my accidental magic?"

Hagrid seemed to be mulling over what to say. "Well Harry," he whispered, making a quick check of the surroundings, "this is a bit of a secret, but I'm actually ha'f giant."

"Why does that need to be a secret?"

"Because some magical people believe in blood purity." Hagrid once again tried to find the right words, "and giants ain't 'xactly smart, Harry."

The boy in question could tell that Hagrid was uncomfortable speaking of his heritage. "Your secret is safe with me."


	3. Snowy Owl

As he and Hagrid left the wizarding bank, Harry couldn't help having a bounce in his step as he outpaced the giant of a man (literally) trailing behind him.

"Where do we need to go first, Hagrid?"

The beady eyed man behind him stopped for a second to think. "Hmm... I thinks we shoul' go in order of the checklist."

Harry ground to a halt as he processed this information. "Wait, there was a checklist?"

"Yeah, it came with yer Hogwarts letter." Hagrid sighed and pulled out his umbrella as Harry started frantically rummaging through his pockets. He pointed it at Harry and said _"Accio,"_ and a piece of parchment flew out of Harry's pocket and into his hand. "Now let's see here... Ah, first is a wand, Harry."

"Speaking of wands, how come your umbrella works as one?" Hagrid looked like a kid who had done something wrong and didn't want to tell the truth.

"It's, erm, my wand was snapped when I was... and I, um, kept the pieces in me umbrella."

Harry hadn't heard half the sentence and sensed that it was an uncomfortable topic, and thinking of how he would have liked to be treated, changed the subject. "So where do I need to go to get a wand?"

"There's a place called Ollivanders just over there," Hagrid told him, pointing. "Go get a wand, I have a stop I need ta make firs'."

As Harry opened the door to the mysterious shop, a bell sounded, the light noise ominous in the silent surroundings. Harry made his way nervously into the box-filled room and strayed towards a small wooden box, identical to all the others, on the right hand side. He pulled open the hinged lid and saw the first wand in his life.

It was a wooden stick made of wood. It was very short and Harry wondered if the two kinds of wood twisting together were common in wands. "Good morning, Harry Potter." Harry jumped out of his skin and left the shop for a second to jump start his mind. When he came back in, the pale eyed man was looking over the same wand Harry had been drawn towards with an air of bewilderment. He seemed to notice Harry as he gestured towards himself.

As he crept towards Ollivander with the air of a frightened animal, Harry took another glance around the room. There seemed to be even more wands now than there were previously, and Harry had to remind himself that the place was, in fact, magic. When he came close enough, the old man thrust the wand into Harry's wand hand (his right one) and Harry watched, amazed, as a silver sphere the size of a marble briefly flashed on the end of the stick and vanished entirely.

"Curious," Ollivander muttered, "Harry, that wand is only six and a half inches; made from both mahogany and willow, a combination of the two woods your parents' wands were made of; and has a core of. This wand is unique in every possible way from any other, and I have no idea about what its properties could be. I must ask you to return to this shop once a year and allow me to check on the wand, and although it has chosen you, I suggest not to use it while under any kind of stress."

Harry, stunned by the long list of reasons his wand was unique, but also his unexpected link to his parents, simply nodded and turned to leave, able to speak but not trusting himself to. "Oh, and Harry?" Said boy looked back at the man. "That will be seven Galleons."

After looking around a while, the brown-haired, scarless boy found Hagrid on his way back from where ever he had been for the past five minutes, carrying something behind his back with one hand and waving cheerfully with the other. He skidded to a halt before Harry and revealed to Harry the most beautiful bird Harry had ever seen- a snow white owl. "Happy birthday, Harry! I got you a present. Isn't she gorgeous?"

Not used to getting anything for his birthdays, Harry stared, once again unable to comprehend how much his life had suddenly changed. He then tackled Hagrid hard enough to even send the half-giant down to the floor and gave him the only hug he remembered ever having. Hagrid chuckled at his enthusiastic response and hugged him back, careful not to crush his ribs in doing so.

When both Harry and Hagrid were back on their feet, Hagrid checked the list again. In around twenty minutes, they had bought a pewter cauldron, a set of crystal phials, a telescope and a set of brass scales.

"Wait, what about robes?"

Hagrid looked to the checklist once more and chuckled in embarrassment. "I must've missed the top bit," he grinned. "an' all the books yeh need." And so they set off together to gather the rest of Harry's school supplies.

They made their way to Madam Malkin's Robes for all occasions and Harry once again followed Hagrid inside. Madam Malkin greeted them with a smile and a wave and started measuring Harry to get the right robes. As she walked off, he saw a girl to his right with bushy brown hair and an intelligent look about her. She apparently noticed him too, because she waved and started talking.

"Are you going to go to Hogwarts too?" Harry was frustrated with himself; he couldn't open his mouth to answer, so he just nodded. "I'm hermione Granger. I didn't even know about magic until I got my letter. My parents were so proud! Did you know about magic before? What's your name? What house are you going to be in? I think I want to be in gryffindor, because that's where Professor Dumbledore went, but I suppose Ravenclaw isn't too bad."

'I guess she's in the same situation as me,' he thought, 'but how can she speak without pausing like that?' Leaving it as a mystery to be solved later, Harry turned his mind back to the issue at hand. He couldn't speak.

Luckily for Harry, Hagrid came to his rescue, "Hermione, Harry can' actually speak right now, he has a slight nervous problem."

'It is NOT a nervous problem! I just have a little issue!' Harry's complaining wasn't heard by the outside world, and Harry was frustrated enough to burst.

And he was holding a wooden sign with screws holding it together.

Both Hagrid and Hermione were shocked at the display of magic, and Hagrid actually tripped over nothing while standing still, and ended up buried in a once neat pile of robes. Harry looked in shock (again) at the sign he had apparently transfigured from his wand box, which now read 'that is weird.' and now 'I can speak!' along with a happy face. 'Anyway,' he said, 'I want to go to Gryffindor too, because that's where my mum, dad and their friends went, and it seems most like my personality, I guess.' He noticed the comma. 'Wait, this thing comes with punctuation?!'

"So, anyway," the girl asked, apparently getting over the constant transfiguration quickly, "What's your name?"

'I'm Harry potter,' the sign said, then Harry glanced up and saw Madam Malkin coming with his robes. 'I'm going to have to go now, I have a lot of shopping to do. I'll see if I can find you on the Hogwarts express.'

"Um, ok, I guess I'll see you then," Hermione mumbled distractedly as Harry got up to leave. As he walked out the door behind Hagrid, he heard a screech behind him that sounded suspiciously like "WHAT?!" and hastened his pace.

The rest of the day passed without incident, but Harry bought some extra books for some light reading, ignoring Hagrid's "But even I can't carry these!" He also bought a dragonhide gauntlet for his owl, whom he had decided to name Hedwig. Hagrid had apparently decided that Harry wouldn't be safe with the Dursleys until they had a year to calm down, and rented a room back in the Leaky Cauldron. Harry was surprised and grateful that Tom was so understanding, and that he didn't bring attention to the boy.

"Harry," Hagrid told him, "I'm gonna hafta drop your disguise before yeh get on the train, so wait fer me at the station."

"why?"

"because before th' sortin', yer name is called out, an' if Harry potter had brown hair when the books say it's black, it would everyone which would confuse me so help out a friend, would you? I'll give yer disguise back the momen' I see yeh after tha'." Hagrid had Harry from the word 'friend' and Harry nodded a confirmation, then turned to the sign in his hand, which was once again a wand box. With a distinct lack of wand. Harry almost panicked, but Hagrid tapped him on the head with the back end of the willogany wand. "Don' lose that wand, Harry. It's the strangest one I ever seen."

Harry was left smiling in the Leaky Cauldron as Hagrid departed, before his face adopted a confused expression. 'Why do the books know my hair is black?'


	4. Silent Laughter

Harry decided to take a risk. Hagrid had explained that there were certain places, such as wizarding towns, where underage use of magic was not restricted. He had also told Harry that an owl would arrive with a letter within a few seconds if he used magic in a restricted area, and that he wouldn't be expelled for the first three offences.

Harry's risk was to use a spell in his room at the pub, and to see if he received a letter. He pulled out a quill and gave a swish and flick with his absurdly short wand. Nothing. It hadn't worked. He tried over one hundred more times before he got the feather to move.

The reason he didn't use speech in his magic was obvious in his eyes. He couldn't speak during certain situations, so using words would be like leaning on a crutch that sometimes wasn't there; half the time he would fall over.

Harry didn't like falling over.

The boy-who-had-to-live-with-excessively-long-titles gave one more swish and flick, and the feather floated a foot off the bedside table he was working on. He waited.

Nothing.

He was overjoyed. His mind repeated _'I can practise!'_ over and over until the words sounded like a foreign language, and Harry threw a book in the air in celebration. He quickly checked to make sure the book wasn't damaged, and stopped when he read the title. 'From Dirt to Gold- a Guide to Transfiguration, By Samantha Chengeling'.

He flipped the book on its back to read the blurb: 'Transfiguration is one of the most difficult forms of magic, as it involves transforming one object into another, and there are limitless combinations. However, it is for this very reason that this form of magic is so useful, as the possibilities are never ending in both combat and daily routine. Join Samantha Chengeling and learn to use transfiguration, from dirt and pebbles to potentially deadly curses and everything in between.'

Over the next month, Harry took a book with him where ever he went. No matter if he was eating an ice cream or admiring the Nimbus 2000 on display, Harry would have a book to read. He read through the entirety of the Hogwarts curriculum (except A History of Magic, as the past bored him), practising spells until he could do them with moderate success (he would perfect them in class for something to do), and went on to start on the thick book that was 'From Dirt to Gold', although only getting through a few pages.

Harry, bored of just reading for a month, had a little fun buying things from the shops. His casual wear was now a dull blue-grey hooded robe made from fleece, going down to his ankles with the front open and hood down (it kept Harry's neck warm during the somewhat cold nights when he felt like going out), over a light pink (manly) T-shirt and gray jeans, with black trainer-like shoes, and a pale green scarf for when he was cold.

Harry's wardrobe was like this for a few reasons. First, it was practical, especially in the winter; second, it kept people's eyes away from his face, stopping people from recognising him as easily and drawing less stares as a fashion freak than he would as Harry Potter. Third, and most importantly for Harry, was that since he currently had a problem with speaking, he needed to mess with people's heads in any way possible and a strange fashion sense made a strong first impression.

On the day that the Hogwarts express was set to depart, Harry was woken at nine o'clock by Hedwig. Thanking the bird, whom he already loved to bits after just a month together, Harry got ready to head to King's Cross and met Tom at the bar by ten o'clock. The kind barman led him outside to the road and told him to stick his wand out in front of him. Harry did so and was rewarded by a light-speed bus skinning his nose, and nearly... _disarming_ him. Eyes watering from the pain of having his nose skinned alive, Harry transfigured a spare pocket from his bag into a bandage for his nose. Hindsight struck and he looked madly around for a ministry owl before sighing in relief when nothing happened and climbing aboard the purple magic bus.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, I'm sure Tom told you it all already, sidown and le's go!" Harry sat on the closest bed and was sent into the next world by a deadly case of whiplash. The End.

_'Or not,'_ Harry thought as he lay on the bed, too busy trying to live to panic. One almighty bang later, the bus had stopped and he was getting off.

"Thank you for riding on the Knight bus, have a nice day and just stick your wand out to ride the bus again."

Harry heard Ern's voice from within, "nobody ever rides again..."

Making his way to platform nine, Harry casually strolled past a certain barrier and slipped through as a small crowd of muggles made their way past. He found himself on platform nine and three quarters, staring in wonder at the red Hogwarts Express stationed there. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a man towering above the others and waved. Hagrid greeted Harry with a quick "See yeh at Hogwarts," tapped him once more with the pink umbrella and bounded off to where ever he was going.

On board the train, Harry made his way past the different compartments until he came across the one with a certain bushy haired girl within, sitting alone, and entered. This time, Harry transfigured his bandage (there was now a scab on his nose) into a wand holster and slotted his wand in, before once again creating the sign from the box.

Hermione stared at this, at a loss for words, before getting a few out, "I... How... How did you do that? Wordless spells don't come up in the next three years, and transfiguration is supposed to be one of the hardest subjects!"

Harry shrugged, 'I found a book on transfiguration and apparently I'm a natural at it. I only use wordless spells because I can't speak, remember?'

"Oh, right, of course you can't. You must have been practicing for absolutely ages to get so good at it!"

'I spent most of my time since we last met practising it, including the night times.' Harry slept in the morning, now, so that was technically true. 'I kind of think this sort of thing is easier to do if you haven't gotten used to other methods.'

"Ok then, what spell did you start practising with? I'd really like to try silent magic. I've heard it's almost as difficult as wandless magic."

Harry did a double take. 'Wait, you can do wandless magic?'

"Well, not me exactly but- hey, wait! Your hair changed!"

'Oh. Hagrid, the tall guy, transfigured my hair to look brown and hid my scar, but we couldn't change my hairstyle so it only fools people who know me... I don't exactly like being famous.'

"... I don't quite know what to-"

Both people in the compartment jumped as the door opened, but whereas the bushy girl had a small moment of shock, the black haired boy jumped up, twisted around and lobbed the sign at the door like a frisbee, smashing through the glass. Harry went to help up and apologise to the boy he had narrowly missed, then transfigured the glass back and picked up the sign which now read 'Sorry about that,' with a sad face at the bottom. He led the shocked redheaded boy into the room and shut the door.

"Who the bloody hell are you two?! Were you trying to kill me?"

Harry, with no way to get Ron's attention using a mute sign, wrote, 'Hermione, reckon you can explain?'

Hermione sighed, then went into a short explanation, "basically, he's Harry Potter, a mute who saved the world at one year old but can only speak in signs and is really jumpy, and I'm Hermione Granger, a muggle-born who doesn't know much about the wizarding world, despite my best attempts to read every book available."

Ron looked lost for words, and turned to Harry, who wished Hermione hadn't mentioned his name. "You're Harry Potter? Fred and George said you were coming to school this year but I didn't think I'd meet you! Hey, do you know any spells? George gave me one earlier but I think it might be a dud."

'Yes I am him, I'm in your year so how could you not meet me, and I've read through the books and learned most of the spells wordlessly.'

"No wonder you're famous..."

'Hermione's learned most of the spells I have and a few others, so give her some recognition. Anyway,' Harry's sign said, attempting to change the topic, 'what was that spell you got from George?'

"Oh, that." Ron pulled a rat out of his pocket and placed it on the small table and drew a wand from somewhere on his person. "The rat's name is Scabbers. He's useless so George gave me a spell to change his colour." He cleared his throat and started waving his wand aimlessly over Scabbers.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,

Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

Harry waited an entire minute staring at the rat before silently laughing himself to death on the floor. "Have you tried using the colour-changing charm?" asked hermione.

"No, how do I do that?"

"Just tap Scabbers with your wand and say _colovaria_, while thinking about the colour you want."

"Okay, then..." Ron screwed up his eyes and tapped Scabbers with his wand, said _"colovaria"_ and the fleabag turned a brilliant pink.

"Great job! I couldn't do it on my first try," Hermione told Ron, "Harry, could you show Ron a hair growth spell please?"

Harry concentrated and thought _'Crescapill'_, the sign once more reminding Hermione that he was mute, and therefore not a good model for pronunciation. However, the spell did its job, and Ron thought that the remaining pink fluffball was hilarious and pocketed it.

The door slid open once again (Harry managed to keep hold of his sign this time), and a pale boy with blonde hair stepped into the room, two gorillas seemingly strapped to his back, following his every move.


	5. Small Shout

"So it's true, then," said the newcomer, "Harry Potter is on the train." He stared at Harry for a second, then glanced at Hermione and Ron. "Look what we have here, a mudblood and a Weasley," he sneered, his face crinkled in disgust. "I'm Draco Malfoy. You'll soon find that there are some people who can't be trusted. I can help you there."

Harry stood, along with Ron, whom Hermione was holding back. His anger towards Malfoy was such that his eyes gleamed red, and his hair turned blacker than night, seemingly sucking the light from the room. "Get out, Malfoy." Draco and his henchmen beat a hasty retreat, all three looking horrified, leaving a redhead and bushyhead goggling at him. "What's wrong?" he asked them, confused.

"H- Harry," Hermione stuttered, and Ron helped her out.

"You just spoke, mate."

Harry's eyes widened in recognition and his arms flew into the air, and hermione cast a quieting charm on him just in time. "I spoke!" he shouted quietly, "that was awesome! I need to thank Malfoy some time."

"There's something else, Harry."

His cheering stopped and he relaxed his arms until they came to a position which would remind most of a cat's paws. "There's more?" he asked of Hermione, turning to face her. "Did something bad happen?"

"Oh, nothing like that," she assured him, "I think you might be a metamorphmagus."

The red eyed boy raised his eyebrow, before diving into a stack of books to his left and pulling out 'From Dirt to Gold' from the middle. He flipped to the contents page. "Ah, here we are," he said, pointing to a point halfway down, "let's see... page... two thousand, three hundred and sixty six." It took him a minute, but Harry finally made it to the right page.

'Metamorphmagics'

'When people first think of transfiguration, they immediately come to conclusions along the lines of "I can turn steel to silver!" However, although that is what we have been doing thus far, that is not the whole story. wizarding spells can't only be cast on wizards or objects, they can be cast on anything. Take, for example, the stunning charm. cast on wizards, it disrupts their magic, forcing them into unconciousness. However, it can also be used on moving objects to slow them, and against other spells to block them. In the latter case, the spell itself is disrupted, and depending on the power of each spell, may dissipate. In the former, motion may be seen as magic, with the charm this time disrupting said motion, slowing the object. While difficult, it is necessary to understand this, as it explains how transfiguration can be casted upon magical beings by simply changing their magic.

Every wizard has a magic signature, and it is this that should be changed in order to transfigure them into something else. A witch or wizard can, with enough practice in transfiguration, alter their own form and the forms of others. The latter case uses a wand, can be exceptionally dangerous and doesn't have a specific name (pg. 2369-2371), while the former doesn't use either a wand nor speech, and is known as metamorphmagic. A common misconception is that metamorphmagi are born rather than created, but this is just that: a misconception. Metamorphmagi are created when a transfiguration master loses control of their magic and transfigures their own magic, unlocking an ability buried in the subconcious of every witch and wizard since the dawn of time. Metamorphmagic may affect only the eyes or hair at first, but eventually it can be used to control the height and weight of the user, even giving them access to venomous bodily fluids and other natural defences, although these should be used with caution as it is possible to poison oneself without the proper neutralisers.'

Harry looked up from the book, then everyone else on the carriage jumped as the glass was shattered once more, and along with a part of the table, was transformed into a mirror. Harry's hair was now a bright pink, and as Ron noticed this he snickered. Ignoring him, Harry checked his eye colour and found his own green eyes staring from behind glasses. He had an idea and concentrated, and took his glasses off; he no longer needed them. He concentrated again, and watched in disbelief as his scar disappeared.

_'It can't really be that easy, can it?'_

Harry had so much fun changing his hairstyle (which he had apparently locked subconciously after having his head shaved during his stay with the Dursleys), that he didn't notice that the train was moving until he was snapped from his trance by someone opening the door nervously. The poor new boy almost fainted when he saw the fashion disaster that was Harry potter, with his multi coloured afro, dalmation-inspired white skin with dark spots, and colour-shifting eyes. Ron brought his fist down upon Harry's head and he apologised using his sign (his mouth had locked again) and changed back to normal. The first year stared, distracted by either the display or the still-shattered window, until he shook himself and managed to get out, "Um... I... I-I lost my toad, Trevor, h-have you seen him?"

Harry raised his wand (the boy flinched) and thought_ 'Accio Trevor,'_ and a second later, the brown toad flew through the broken window and landed on his lap. He handed the escapee pet to its owner, who hugged it tearfully.

"Trevor," he almost cried, "I couldn't find you anywhere! T-Thank you so much!"

Harry once again felt his mouth unlock and thankfully opened it. "What's your name?"

"I'm N-Neville Longbottom," he stammered, "wait, are you Harry Potter?"

Harry nodded with a glum air. "The one and only," he deadpanned. "Hermione, would you do the honours?"

The only girl nodded. "I'm Hermione Granger, a muggleborn who can't figure out the wizarding world, but I know the next three years curriculum off by heart. Over there is Harry Potter, a metamorphmagus and transfiguration master who can sometimes only speak using signs, and that's Ron Weasley, the boy with the bright pink puffball of a rat."

Ron narrowed his eyes, but Harry knew he was joking. "Oh, that's all you can say about me?"

"Maybe you should've studied so you had some knowledge of magic," Hermione mused, "I can't believe you grew up in a magical family but never guessed that you didn't need poems to do magic."

"They were trying to keep it a secret for some reason. Probably because they thought I was a squib."

"They did?" Neville joined the conversation and Harry looked expectantly at Ron.

"I never did any accidental magic until I was ten," Ron seemed pleased at the attention, "I fell off my broom playing quidditch with Fred, George and Ginny, and I ended up a foot from the ground, hanging in the air by my leg. Took dad ages to find a counterspell."

"I wonder if that means you have an affinity for jinxes," Hermione wondered aloud, and everyone turned in her direction. "What? Harry did more accidental transfiguration than anything else, so it stands to reason that it has something to do with what you'd be best at, and what you said makes it sound like a jinx because it needed a counterspell."

"She's right," Harry admitted, "about my accidental magic at least. I regrew my hair and stopped it from changing, I vanished some glass which would probably be explained by it being transfigured to air, and I changed the inside of my cupboard to be more comfortable once."

"Ok then," Ron said, grimacing, "I'd hate to do this, and the twins would never let me live it down, but can I borrow a book about jinxing, mate?"

The shapeshifter nodded and dived back into his pile of books, which had toppled over due to the motion of the train, pulled a dark brown tome and threw it to Ron, who caught it and opened it to the contents.

Hermione looked to be deep in thought, so Harry turned to Neville. "What accidental magic have you done?" he asked, and the boy's eyes became unfocused for a second.

"Um... Oh yeah! My uncle dropped me out of a window to try and get me to do magic, and I bounced until I could get up."

Harry noted with happiness that the shy boy was warming up to the three, and answered. "That sounds like a charm, but I'll have to ask whoever the charms professor is. Would you like a book, too?" At Neville's nod, Harry tossed him a thick, grey book, then picked up a random one for himself. He then turned to Hermione, who was still thinking so hard that Harry swore he could hear the grinding of gears, and freed her from her own thoughts. "What accidental magic have you done, Hermione?"

"That's what I've been wondering! I don't remember doing anything by accident! I might not even have magic!"

"Maybe it just means you have good magical control," Harry consoled her, "you can do magic, you told us you had practiced some spells. Besides, now your magic could be anything!"

Hermione brightened. "Yes, I guess I could... but what should I try?"

Harry thought for a second. "Why don't you try... Arithmancy! You seem like you'd be brilliant at it." At Hermione's nod, he threw her a particularly thick maroon book, and turned back to his own.

'Which Wood? A Guide to Wand Fashioning and Mending.'

* * *

**The chapter ends on another poor excuse for a cliffhanger! I've noticed my chapters steadily getting longer, but I hope this one breaks the pattern. I have added Neville to the trio, and I plan to keep him.**

**Harry and Hermione have helped Ron and Neville find their calling, and here are my plans so far, so expect just a few small spoilers.**

**Harry, as you can probably tell, is already a transfiguration "master", but I hope to balance his powers by... I don't know, making them slower? I also plan to drop a bomb on his powers (as well as his wand) at some point; he'll have a lot of knowledge, including of other subjects, but no power or control, and so will have to find another way to do magic.**

**Ron will be a jinx master. He has started forcing himself to study, as he has seen the power of his friends' magic, and has found a way to one-up his family. I can't remember if the properties of jinxes were explained, but for this fic they will probably be casted on people (usually), be the most combat-oriented spells, and not wear down over time, needing a counter-jinx to mend the damage.**

**Neville will learn charms along with his herbology skill, and will learn to utilise non-combat spells in combat situations, making him a round fighter.**

**Hermione will find her calling in arithmancy and ancient runes. Arithmancy will probably use symbols and shapes connected on parchment and concentrate on perfection, while ancient runes will be much more lenient and concentrate on complex interactions between runes. Or something, I'm not sure yet.**

**You may have already noticed, but I've apparently strayed into an AU. Hagrid, in particular, will be a powerful wizard, and already sort of is according to 'From Dirt to Gold', with his transfiguration of Harry.**

**I've tried to keep the universe's workings as close to original as possible, and as I seem to remember someone saying that metamorphmagic is genetic, I changed that to a misconception. That is all. So much for breaking the pattern in word count.**


	6. Scary Ghost

Harry had hardly opened his book when the door was opened once more. He whisked round, once more ready to throw the now otherwise obsolete sign, but stopped when his eyes met a smiling woman. "Anything off the trolley, dears?" If she was frightened, she didn't show it as Harry was pulled back to his seat by a disgruntled Hermione.

"Hmm... I'll have... six of everything please." Ron looked like he had been shot in the stomach, and Neville and Hermione were staring incredulously at Harry. The woman blinked, then smiled and handed Harry a small bag. He looked inside to find it over twenty times bigger and filled to the brim with food and confectionary. "How much will that cost?"

As the four friends dug into the food, Harry asked Ron if he could look at his wand.

"Why do you want to see it?" he asked uncomfortably, "It's not exactly new..."

"I noticed that the core was coming out, and I've read up on how to fix wands, so I was wondering if I could mend it."

"But what if you break it even more? I can't go an entire year without a wand!"

"Then I'll take you to Ollivanders and buy you another one."

Ron was reluctant to accept 'charity', as he called it, but eventually gave in and watched on in worry and anticipation as Harry snapped the wand, pulled out the unicorn hairs, and fashioned a new one out of a small part of the table (it was made of holly, which Harry thought fitting, and after checking it, he deemed it strong enough for use in the wand). He measured Ron's hand, before getting back to work on the wand, stopping only to get out and let Hermione change.

He had just finished it and handed it to Ron (an extremely simple wand, Holly and Unicorn hair, nine and a half inches, sturdy and unbreakable), when the quartet heard an echoing voice. "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the castle seperately."

Harry urged Ron to try the new wand, and he did so, marvelling at the sudden increase in power and control. "It might not be amazing, but I figured it was better than an old wand that you didn't own," Harry told him, grinning at his expression.

"Are you bloody kidding me, Harry? This is brilliant!" Ron was half shouting now, amazed that he now had a Potter wand.

"Quiet down, or I'll cast a silencing charm on you," Hermione threatened half-heartedly, unable to keep a straight face. Once again with his trademark scar, Harry packed up his books, and transfigured the wooden shavings (using magic to create a wand would have been dangerous without experience) back onto the table, making it hollow to make up for the wand-sized chunk missing from it.

As the four friends stood up together, the snapped shell of Ron's old wand lay forgotten on the floor.

Outside the train, Harry's attention was caught by a gigantic familiar face- one Rubeus Hagrid, who waved energetically and Harry waved back, bumping his hand into Ron by accident.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" Harry led the other three down the steep slope that Hagrid was disappearing behind, and they stumbled to a huge, shining lake and got their very first look at Hogwarts. Harry took in the sight of the castle before being brought to his senses by someone shouting. "No more'n four to a boat!" That worked out perfectly for Harry, and he and his new friends took the nearest boat together.

Harry was the first to speak. "It's brilliant, I can't actually believe it." That was all the conversation to be had, as the view said the rest.

By the time the boats made it over the lake, Harry was blue and shivering, but the rest of the new students were perfectly fine. Trying to figure out a reason for this, all he could come up with was _'all the magical gods hate me for surviving a killing curse,'_ so he put the matter to rest in the back of his mind. Harry became conscious of his sense of sight as the group stood under the towering castle on damp grass. Making their way up the flight of stairs, they stopped at a door and Hagrid knocked three times on it, causing three booming sounds that reminded Harry of the day his life had changed.

The door was opened so quickly Harry suspected the person on the other side had been waiting for the knocks. A tall witch with black hair tied into a tight bun was standing there, and Harry knew she could be trusted, despite (or perhaps because of) her stern demeanour.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid told her, complete with professional voice and body language.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I shall take them from here." The door had opened into a hall big enough to house several buildings, with candles floating above the spaces between the four main tables, lighting them and dripping wax into the gaps, which cooled as it fell. Harry found this effect to be mesmerising, although apparently nobody else had noticed it. What they had noticed was the fact that not a single one of them knew how they would be sorted. Ron whispered something about fighting a troll, but Harry reminded him that they would have to heal it between students, and that would be too much trouble for the teachers. Ron seemed to feel mildly better at this, as he swallowed and nodded resolutely.

As Professor McGonagall left to do... something, Harry saw something in the corner of his eye. He curiously stepped towards the pale ghost, and got close enough to stick his hand through said undead person's stomach.

Which he did. The ghost shouted in surprise and backed away as Harry's hand went a shade of blue and started shivering even as he pulled his arm back, and he suddenly had a manic grin on his face and was charging after the floating man, who was doing his best to dodge and avoid freezing Harry to death. Within a few moments, other ghosts had joined the chase, and students were chasing ghosts and ghosts were chasing students. Harry leapt through the Bloody Baron and promptly collapsed, tinted a combination of dull blues and purples, and breathing shallowly. Everyone stopped and stared, all somehow aware of his sudden fall, and in a split second, everyone bar Ron, Hermione, and surprisingly Neville were in a panic, unsure of what to do. Hermione took charge, sitting Harry up, taking his pulse, removing the top half of his robes and leaning his back against hers, and the two conscious boys followed suit, doing their best to cover his front.

When Professor McGonagall returned with a panicked-looking Nearly-Headless Nick, it was to a scene of pandemonium. Students were screaming for help, and some had even fallen to the ground in a faint. The remaining ghosts were trying to calm the group, but only served to elicit even greater shouts. It was then that she saw a sight which made her heart skip a beat; Harry Potter's form was sitting unconscious and frozen, with his three best friends desperately attemping to keep him alive.

Hermione hadn't risked a warming charm as that could heat the ice collected on Harry's skin, evaporating it and drawing heat from him, and so she was forced to use muggle techniques to help Harry, at least until help came. It was with a worried but glad air, therefore, that she turned to face the shocked Professor. "Harry jumped through the ghosts and ended up freezing," she explained, somehow remaining level-headed in a cloud of confusion. "He needs proper medical attention and quickly!"

The professor nodded quickly, attempting to hide her dismay, took Harry from the floor and rushed through the entrance hall with him in her arms, making a beeline for the hospital wing. Hagrid would show up a few minutes later to watch over the sorting.

In the hospital wing, a now barely-conscious Harry was tucked into one of the beds. Madam Pomfrey, the medi-witch of Hogwarts, force fed him a pepper up potion, then turned to Professor McGonagall. "What on earth happened to him, Minerva?! He's practically frozen solid!" she exclaimed in a hushed voice.

"Harry foolishly decided to start jumping through ghosts as soon as I left to ready the sorting hat." McGonagall whispered in reply.

"No ghost is cold enough to do this! It's worse than a dementor chill!" Minerva winced at this; she had experienced the cold of dementors in the past, and she knew the healer in front of her would never understate the danger of the creatures.

"He'll live, won't he, Poppy?" She couldn't keep the panicked note out of her voice.

"He should do, but it's hard to tell for sure at the moment. He isn't getting any warmer, so I would like you to ask Albus to enchant a heated room for me."

The green-robed Professor nodded silently, not trusting herself with the gift of speech, and set off, her feet working double time.

"If she hadn't got him here faster, he would have died," she muttered to herself, shaking her head.

* * *

**I have finally figured out my greatest enemy in storytelling: repetition.**

**Repeating a phrase is one of those things that works in real life, but not on paper. I've found that repeating time phrases is by far the worst offence. At first, the "He should do" line looked like this:**

**"He should do, but it's hard to tell for sure _at the moment_. He isn't getting any warmer_ at the moment_, so I would like you to ask Albus to enchant a heated room for me."**

**The repeated sections are italicised. I hate any and all non-meaningful repetition past single words and common phrases, and I try not use the same words too close together.**

**(The wooden wand made of wood (the Ollivanders chapter) was half deliberate; I thought it was funny and left it in for once.)**


	7. Secret Place

Harry's eyes opened, and he blinked as the sunlight hit him in full force. Reaching blearily to his left, his hands came across a couple pieces of parchment and a goblet, before resting on his glasses. He pulled them on (if only for old times' sake), pushed himself onto his elbows and groaned. _'I missed the sorting,'_ he despaired, before brightening up. _'Completely worth it though.'_

His thoughts were interrupted by a woman walking into the room. She seemed surprised that Harry had woken up already, and insisted that he should stay in bed, but Harry eventually won that argument, and left to do... something. He was sure there was a solution to this; he couldn't be the only person ever to miss being sorted, right? With this in mind, he left the hospital wing, but had a sneaking suspicion he had forgotten to ask something.

Harry turned a corner and almost tripped when he saw the headmaster smiling at him. "Well, Harry, I assume you would like to be sorted?" He nodded but stayed quiet. "Follow me to my office, then, if you would."

After turning yet another corner, Harry brought up the subject of his friends. "Ah, they were all sorted into Gryffindor, and the hat told me it was because of the way they handled the ghost situation." Harry's cheeks took on a pink tinge at this, but the most powerful wizard in the world either didn't notice or chose not to acknowledge this, which the boy-who-lived was grateful for.

Turning a last corner, Harry saw a gargoyle, up to which Professor Dumbledore walked and said, "Sherbert Lemon." A corridor opened up, and Dumbledore led Harry through.

The headmaster's office was Harry's favourite room in the castle from the moment he laid his eyes on it. The room was chock-full of strange devices, ones that Harry recognised as dark magic detectors from one of the many books he had read, along with some that Harry suspected had no purpose other than Dumbledore's amusement. Harry had a sudden urge to bite, scratch and play with things, but pushed said urge down, bewildered at his own train of thought. On the shelves were many things, but the first that he laid his eyes upon was the sorting hat. This was Harry's first time seeing it up close, and he could hardly believe that this was the test of character that would pick his house. Dumbledore took it from the shelf and plonked it down on his head. Now looking at the inside of an old wizard hat, Harry heard a voice.

"Ah, what have we here? A latecomer?" Harry felt his mouth lock up, but the hat continued on, "Don't worry, you won't need to speak. Let's see here... Plenty of cunning, but you aren't exactly very sly... Ooh, a quick mind, although you do make some wrong decisions. Oh, and let's not forget your loyalty to your friends! I also see a spark of bravery in here, oh yes, but I'm currently leaning towards HU-"

Here the voice stopped dead, for Harry had forced his mouth open, fully aware that the hat on his head was probably more powerful than some of the teachers. "If I want to be loyal to my friends, I should be with them in Gryffindor." Harry spoke the last word out loud, and the hat twitched on his head, shocked to have a student refuse his choice of house. Even Dumbledore seemed surprised at Harry's simple declaration, but he pulled the hat from his head and rested it back on the shelf nonetheless.

Harry arrived at the Gryffindor common room, having been guided there by a passing sixth year, in a delighted mood. _"Caput Draconis,"_ he said in a sing-song voice, and the fat lady opened so quickly, Harry almost forgot to metamorph into a redheaded, blue eyed, scarless boy. Ron had agreed to have Harry pose as a cousin, and had apparently Ron's twin brothers were in on the secret, as they called him Harry in an undertone before announcing that Harold Weasley had been fashionably late. However, luck wasn't on Harry's side and people immediately pieced together Harry's true identity, along with his metamorphmagus abilities, dampening his happy feelings.

Harry met up with Ron, Neville and Hermione in the boys' dorm, after changing his hair back to normal, and copied Ron's timetable, as they had the same subjects. With this reminder, Harry finally realised what he'd forgotten. "So how long was I out?"

Ron coughed that it wasn't important, but Hermione shot him a scandalous look and turned to Harry. "You missed an entire week of school! Now you'll be behind on all your classes and have more homework and-"

She was stopped by Harry holding up a hand. "I'll do fine, Hermione," he consoled her, "I already know all the spells in the books." Her expression softened slightly, but she pushed a book into his hands regardless. Harry looked at it and toppled over due to unforeseen split sides.

The book was 'A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration'. Ron took a look at it and scoffed, "Hermione, Harry can do wordless, wandless transfiguration! He finds it easier than _speaking_, even!" Hermione took the point and conceded, allowing Harry to go outside the castle for the remainder of the free lesson.

What Harry found on the grounds that day was a blessing to him.

In transfiguration, Harry's first magic lesson ever, every student in the class was given a matchstick and told to complete their work from the previous lesson, then Professor McGonagall strode over to Harry and gave him a run-down on the last lesson's objective, and transforming into a cat and back "so as not to show favouritism," as she had explained to Dumbledore. Harry was immediately distracted by that, and asked how he could do it himself, to which McGonagall chuckled dryly, "Mr Potter, animagic is an intensively difficult style of transfiguration, and you shall most certainly need to work your way up from the basics. I would like you to try to turn this matchstick into a needle."

Harry struck the tip of the match and lit it. His Professor blinked, then was about to scold him when she noticed something... shining in the flame as it travelled down the wooden stick. She stared in disbelief as the matchstick seemed to burn into a needle. It didn't escape her attention that Harry was using nonverbal, wandless magic to do all this, and she gave him fifty points for this, whispering that his father had done a similar trick in _his_ first lesson. Harry was, naturally, overjoyed to hear this.

Although he was good at all of his subjects, except potions and history of magic, which were far too slow for him, Harry only paid any attention in transfiguration, although he did confront Professor Flitwick about Neville's accidental magic like he had promised. His three best friends almost never saw him between lessons, and he always had his head buried deep in 'From Dirt to Gold' whenever they did. What he was doing, they didn't know, until Gred and Forge cornered them one morning, showing them a special map which showed people's positions in the Hogwarts grounds.

"What does this have to do with Harry?" Ron questioned.

"Well, There's one-" "secret passage that-" "even _we_-" "haven't explored." Freg and Georde had suddenly taken to finishing each other's sentences, leaving Ron to figure it out in his head.

"Where's that, then?" Ron asked, bemused; how could Harry use a shortcut even the twins couldn't?

"It's under the whomping willow-" "and comes out in the shrieking shack," they said, showing that part of the map.

Hermione's mouth became a perfect "O" shape and she grabbed Ron by the arm and raced outside to wait for Harry.

Harry pulled himself out of the tunnel and tapped the knot on the whomping willow, before turning to see Neville, Hermione and Ron sitting on the grass, apparently waiting for him to come out. He blinked, then smiled, "Hey guys! Would you like to come in?"

Ron goggled at him, Hermione wore a similar expression, and Neville said "Okay, sure," and got up to walk to the tunnel. "Wow," the others heard him say, "did you fix this up yourself, Harry?"

"Yup!" Harry seemed amazingly pleased with himself and beckoned Ron and Hermione in, before poking the knot once more and disappearing below.

The inside of the tunnel was made of stone bricks that Harry had presumeably transfigured from- "Nope," he told them, grinning all the while, "I fixed the entire thing myself, no magic whatsoever."

Now it was Hermione's turn to stare, "You have to have used some magic!"

Harry turned back to face her and carried on walking backwards. "Hermione Granger, you have my word that the only spell to come out of my wand or myself within the proximity of this place was the silencing charm."

Neville's voice came from up ahead, "why did you make this place anyway, Harry?"

He shrugged. "A place to practise spells? A potion brewery? A greenhouse? I gave you each a big room, choose what you want to do with it! I've also made a bedroom, so I'm going to sleep down here."

"That's against the-"

"There is nothing in the rules about changing the shack, I checked. I also found a loophole in the curfew; the rules only mention having to stay in your _own_ dorm, not your _house_ dorm. Since I built this, it's our dorm and we can sleep here." Hermione tried to think of a counter to this, but could come up with nothing so once more was forced to accept Harry's screwed up, yet somehow flawless, logic. A shout came from in front. "That must be Neville finding the dorm," Harry sang with a gleam in his eye.

Hermione and Ron let out a breath as they came to the main hall of the dorm: a wide open space with stone walls and a wooden floor, with enchanted moving targets in the corners, and white markings on the floor for duel practise. Neville was visible now, nailing a few targets with stunning spells and perfecting his aim on a target hanging on the right-hand wall.

On the opposite wall were five oak doors and a ladder hanging over the middle door. "The middle one is the bedroom with a bathroom on the other side, the four others are our whatever-we-want rooms and the ladder leads to the shack, into which I've built a secret door so we can go to Hogsmead if we feel like it."

"That's-"

"IF we feel like it, Hermione, we won't be breaking any rules unless we actually _use_ the door. I actually have it for a slightly different reason, which I'm not telling you yet because it isn't finished."

Three of the four whatever-we-want rooms were completely empty, but the one on the far right, which had a sign on the door saying 'H. Potter', was a mess. It looked like a giant play area for cats, complete with scratch posts, obviously chewed pet toys, and even some muggle and magical children's toys. While it was bright and cheerful, nobody, except perhaps Harry, had any idea what it could possibly be useful for.

Neville decided to turn his spare room into a greenhouse, as it was obviously big enough to house a few whomping willows. Harry had given them permission to use magic, stating that the only reason he didn't was for bragging rights, so Hermione would create some sunlight-emitting orbs using ancient runes and Neville would hang them from the high ceiling, using them to grow his plants.

Hermione had decided upon making a library/study room hybrid, so that she wouldn't have to keep moving books around. The four had already agreed to share the whatever-we-want rooms, so any and all books the quartet owned would go in there.

Ron, seeing that the main hall covered his preferred area of study, had a much harder time deciding, but with Harry subtly pushing games into the front of his mind, he eventually settled on a game room, with gobstones, wizard chess, and exploding snap, as well as muggle games such as pool and table hockey.

Harry had also decided, and the others agreed, that Fred and George should be offered two beds and a double-sized room, and they planned to ask next time any of them met the twins.

Having settled the issue of Harry's secrecy, the four friends trooped off to double potions, which would be followed by lunch and then flying lessons.

* * *

**I found this chapter hard to write and even harder to follow, I'm upset to say. I think I screwed up the pacing a little, as I tried to conform to the original HP's lesson plans. I'm going to scrap that, so the only lessons described are important ones to the plot.**

**I like the idea of this chapter but not so much the execution.**


End file.
